Nobody expects him to go back in time and deliver another classic album like Too-Rye-Ay, but it doesn't seem too much to ask for him to make a record that has more zip than this. That being said, it's always good to get another transmission from the heart and soul of Kevin Rowland, even one lacking the sweat and excitement he usually delivers.

It adds up to another pitch perfect album by the band, certainly one of their best and most devastatingly pretty works. In a career full of brilliance, that's saying ever so much.

While Lanza has never come across as diffident, she is at her most poised and direct on Love Hallucination, another serving of bubbly avant-pop only she could have made.

The Ones Ahead gets too saccharine at times, and it's not anywhere near as engaging as Glenn-Copeland's visionary folk-jazz records from the early '70s, or his soothing ambient classic Keyboard Fantasies. Nevertheless, it's impossible to find fault with his optimism, and the songs' messages clearly resonate.

While the majority of the album is breezy and unassuming, the radio-ready pop detailing of "Mona Lisa" cuts through a little more than most, with manicured hooks and sonic sweetening that feel tailored for commercial blockbuster status.

The result is Georgia's most accessible album to date, although it does feel like some of the unique qualities of her earlier releases have been compromised.

Guided by Voices has never had so long a streak of consistently fine albums as they've had since this edition came to be, and Welshpool Frillies shows this band (and their indefatigable leader) aren't about to let us down now.

DeMent's acute sense of humanity remains her greatest asset, and it has rarely sounded so graceful as on this wonderful set of songs.

Sakamoto died two months after 12 was released, and being aware that it was his final work adds emotional weight to music that appears fragile and delicate.

You & I is a nourishing, adult examination of love and relationships that matures the singer and her catalog in the process.

Less serious-feeling moments like "Zombie World" and "This Isn't Funny" call back to the juvenile spirit of early Half Japanese, but the majority of Jump into Love finds Fair and his band communicating messages of joy and promise with strangely heavy tunes that don't quite sonically match their optimistic sentiments.

IRL doesn't truly feel like a return or even a follow-up. Still, she immediately set this album apart from Love and Compromise by previewing it with the fluid and bumping "Terms and Conditions," a shrewd collaboration with RAYE that is unequivocal about its "rules in place" for a potential lover.

Clarke's songs are founded in seductive pop melodies with a rootsy undertow, and he, his studio band, and his production team have crafted an album that comes from the heart and emotionally connects with rare skill, in both music and lyrics. Having a down day? Cut Worms may be just what you need.

Lofgren doesn't shy away from big emotions -- one song, "Nothin's Easy," is explicitly dedicated to his wife Amy, who also serves as the album's co-producer, yet many of the other tracks feel informed by their relationship -- and that open-heartedness is the key to the album's success: it enlivens the studio precision and gloss, giving it a warm human pulse.

An album that feels age-appropriate without being stodgy: it's mature and nuanced, cherishing the connections that once were taken for granted but now seem precious.

He may be able to capture the sound of a band playing in a room but in this case, it feels like the room is a rehearsal studio, with the band stuck playing rough drafts at maximum volume. A bit of tightening and a bit of polish would've gone a long way here.

Some of Uzi's experiments are fun and exploratory while others flop, and the entire album is a lot to digest in one go. There are still plenty of solid tracks regardless of what style Lil Uzi Vert is trying on, but more fastidious editing might have delivered a more enjoyable, less meandering overall listening experience.

Super Snooper puts enough of a fresh spin on the standard tropes of punk to make this exciting, without sacrificing the satisfying energy at the core of the sound. As a first major salvo from a band on the rise, this is highly promising and a lot of good, noisy fun.

Rajan might not quite reach the top rank of modern psych albums -- "Nightmare" hews a little too closely to blues clichés and the occasional bit of editing could have been done when the tracks started to drift too much -- but Blackwell has made a strong and never less than interesting step in that direction. Even if he swings back to the more well-known Night Beats formula, this will stand as a fun experiment at the very least.

Despite the understated and lo-fi nature of the recording, Evenings at the Village Gate is a testament to their profound artistry and creative synergy.

At its most passable, COI is an engaging play with enough highlights to pack a playlist and keep the party moving.

This understated makeover casts Speak Now not as the final Taylor country record but as the first pop album from the singer/songwriter, a revision that offers its own gentle revisions.

Toil and Trouble's themes of trauma, denial, and redemption bear some of the hallmarks of Terry Gilliam's 1991 fantasy-drama The Fisher King, as much like Robin Williams' homeless knight errant, it's both meditative and mad.

Altogether, Evergreen is a masterfully executed maturation that launches Gunnulfsen forward into fresh, fearless territory.

Also rife with a bubbly, '70s funk groove is "Coconuts," whose cheeky, double entendre lyrics not only celebrate Petras' Queer identity, but speak to the playfully flirty, tongue-in-cheek atmosphere she achieves throughout Feed the Beast.

Despite Clarkson's rousing performances and optimistic outlook, Chemistry feels cloistered and secluded, lacking pathways into its inner sanctuaries.

Stitched together with old, seemingly unfinished material dusted off and sometimes freshened up in some fashion, varying wildly in subject matter, and therefore doesn't come across as a true follow-up to 2021's Punk.

The singer confesses to being "a neurotic mess" in the opening "Amöban," and there's sorrow in the purposefully ragged "Kenneth," but letting go, living it up, and delighting in overindulgence win out thematically across the album. The best of the lot might be "Frisco," a discreet declaration of liberation that with equal ease could be transformed into an acoustic jazz ballad or a storming house anthem.